SIR RADERIC. Yea, boy, write that down. Very learnedly, in good faith. I pray now, let me ask you one question that I remember: whether is the masculine gender or the feminine more worthy?

IMMERITO. The feminine, sir.

SIR RADERIC. The right answer, the right answer. In good faith, I have been of that mind always. Write, boy, that to show he is a grammarian.

PAGE. No marvel my master be against the grammar; for he hath always made false Latin in the genders. [Aside.

RECORDER. What university are you of?

IMMERITO. Of none.

SIR RADERIC. He tells truth; to tell truth is an excellent virtue. Boy, make two heads, one for his learning, another for his virtues; and refer this to the head of his virtues, not of his learning.

PAGE. What, half a mess of good qualities referred to an ass' head? [Aside.

SIR RADERIC. Now, Master Recorder, if it please you, I will examine him in an author that will sound him to the depth—a book of astronomy, otherwise called an almanac.

RECORDER. Very good, Sir Raderic; it were to be wished that there were no other book of humanity, then there would not be such busy, state-frying fellows as are nowadays. Proceed, good sir.

SIR RADERIC. What is the dominical letter?

IMMERITO. C, sir, and please your worship.

SIR RADERIC. A very good answer, a very good answer, the very answer of the book. Write down that, and refer it to his skill in philosophy.

PAGE. C the dominical letter? It is true: Craft and Cunning do so domineer; yet, rather C and D are dominical letters, that is, crafty duncery. [Aside.

SIR RADERIC. How many days hath September?

IMMERITO. April, June, and November, February hath twenty-eight alone; and all the rest hath thirty and one.

SIR RADERIC. Very learnedly, in good faith, he hath also a smack in poetry. Write down that, boy, to show his learning in poetry. How many miles from Waltham to London?

IMMERITO. Twelve, sir.

SIR RADERIC, How many from Newmarket to Grantham?

IMMERITO. Ten, sir.

PAGE. Without doubt, he hath been some carrier's horse. [Aside.

SIR RADERIC. How call you him that is cunning in 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and the cypher?

IMMERITO. A good arithmetician.

SIR RADERIC. Write down that answer of his, to show his learning in arithmetic.

PAGE. He must needs be a good arithmetician, that counted money so lately. [Aside.

SIR RADERIC. When is the new moon?

IMMERITO. The last quarter the fifth day, at two of the clock and thirty-eight minutes in the morning.

SIR RADERIC. Write that down. How call you him that is weatherwise?

IMMERITO. A good astronomer.

SIR RADERIC. Sirrah boy, write him down for a good astronomer.

PAGE. Ass colit ass-tra. [Aside.

SIR RADERIC. What day of the month lights the Queen's day on?

IMMERITO. The seventeenth of November.[94]

SIR RADERIC. Boy, refer this to his virtues, and write him down a good subject.

PAGE. Faith, he were an excellent subject for two or three good wits: he would make a fine ass for an ape to ride upon. [Aside.

SIR RADERIC. And these shall suffice for the parts of his learning. Now it remains to try whether you be a man of good utterance, that is, whether you can ask for the strayed heifer with the white face, as also chide the boys in the belfry, and bid the sexton whip out the dogs. Let me hear your voice.

IMMERITO. If any man or woman—

SIR RADERIC. That's too high.

IMMERITO. If any man or woman—

SIR RADERIC. That's too low.

IMMERITO. If any man or woman can tell any tidings of a horse with four feet, two ears, that did stray about the seventh hour, three minutes in the forenoon the fifth day—

PAGE. A book of[95] a horse, just as it were the eclipse of the moon. [Aside.

SIR RADERIC. Boy, write him down for a good utterance. Master Recorder, I think he hath been examined sufficiently.

RECORDER. Ay, Sir Raderic, 'tis so; we have tried him very throughly.

PAGE. Ay, we have taken an inventory of his good parts, and prized them accordingly.

SIR RADERIC. Signior Immerito, forasmuch as we have made a double trial of thee—the one of your learning, the other of your erudition—it is expedient also, in the next place, to give you a few exhortations, considering the greatest clerks are not the wisest men. This is therefore, first, to exhort you to abstain from controversies; secondly, not to gird at men of worship, such as myself, but to use yourself discreetly; thirdly, not to speak when any man or woman coughs—do so, and in so doing, I will persevere to be your worshipful friend and loving patron.

IMMERITO. I thank your worship, you have been the deficient cause of my preferment.

SIR RADERIC. Lead Immerito into my son, and let him despatch him; and remember—my tithes to be reserved, paying twelvepence a year. I am going to Moorfields to speak with an unthrift I should meet at the Middle-Temple about a purchase; when you have done, follow us.

[Exeunt IMMERITO and the PAGE.



ACTUS III., SCAENA 2.

SIR RADERIC and RECORDER.

SIR RADERIC. Hark you, Master Recorder: I have fleshed my prodigal boy notably, notably, in letting him deal for this living; that hath done him much good, much good, I assure you.

RECORDER. You do well, Sir Raderic, to bestow your living upon such an one as will be content to share, and on Sunday to say nothing; whereas your proud university princox thinks he is a man of such merit the world cannot sufficiently endow him with preferment. An unthankful viper, an unthankful viper, that will sting the man that revived him. Why, is't not strange to see a ragged clerk Some stamel weaver or some butcher's son, That scrubb'd a-late within a sleeveless gown, When the commencement, like a morris-dance, Hath put a bell or two about his legs, Created him a sweet clean gentleman; How then he 'gins to follow fashions: He, whose thin sire dwells in a smoky roof, Must take tobacco, and must wear a lock; His thirsty dad drinks in a wooden bowl, But his sweet self is serv'd in silver plate. His hungry sire will scrape you twenty legs For one good Christmas meal on New-Year's day, But his maw must be capon-cramm'd each day; He must ere long be triple-beneficed, Else with his tongue he'll thunderbolt the world, And shake each peasant by his deaf man's ear. But, had the world no wiser men than I, We'd pen the prating parrots in a cage. A chair, a candle, and a tinder-box, A thacked[96] chamber and a ragged gown, Should be their lands and whole possessions; Knights, lords, and lawyers should be lodg'd and dwell Within those over-stately heaps of stone, Which doating sires in old age did erect. Well, it were to be wished, that never a scholar in England might have above forty pound a year.

SIR RADERIC. Faith, Master Recorder, if it went by wishing, there should never an one of them all have above twenty a year—a good stipend, a good stipend, Master Recorder. I in the meantime, howsoever I hate them all deadly, yet I am fain to give them good words. O, they are pestilent fellows, they speak nothing but bodkins, and piss vinegar. Well, do what I can in outward kindness to them, yet they do nothing but bewray my house: as there was one that made a couple of knavish verses on my country chimney, now in the time of my sojourning here at London; and it was thus— Sir Raderic keeps no chimney cavalier, That takes tobacco above once a year. And another made a couple of verses on my daughter, that learns to play on the viol-de-gambo— Her viol-de-gambo is her best content; For 'twixt her legs she holds her instrument. Very knavish, very knavish, if you look into it, Master Recorder. Nay, they have played many a knavish trick beside with me. Well, 'tis a shame, indeed, there should be any such privilege for proud beggars as Cambridge and Oxford are. But let them go; and if ever they light in my hands, if I do not plague them, let me never return home again to see my wife's waiting-maid!

RECORDER. This scorn of knights is too egregious: But how should these young colts prove amblers, When the old, heavy, galled jades do trot? There shall you see a puny boy start up, And make a theme against common lawyers; Then the old, unwieldy camels 'gin to dance, This fiddling boy playing a fit of mirth; The greybeards scrub, and laugh, and cry, Good, good! To them again, boy; scourge the barbarians. But we may give the losers leave to talk; We have the coin, then tell them laugh for me. Yet knights and lawyers hope to see the day, When we may share here their possessions, And make indentures of their chaffer'd skins, Dice of their bones to throw in merriment.

SIR RADERIC. O, good faith, Master Recorder, if I could see that day once?

RECORDER. Well, remember another day what I say: scholars are pryed into of late, and are found to be busy fellows, disturbers of the peace. I'll say no more; guess at my meaning. I smell a rat.

SIR RADERIC. I hope at length England will be wise enough, I hope so, i'faith; then an old knight may have his wench in a corner without any satires or epigrams. But the day is far spent, Master Recorder; and I fear by this time the unthrift is arrived at the place appointed in Moorfields. Let us hasten to him. [He looks on his watch.

RECORDER. Indeed, this day's subject transported us too late: [but] I think we shall not come much too late.

[Exeunt.



ACTUS III., SCAENA 3.

Enter AMORETTO, and his Page, IMMERITO booted.

AMORETTO. Master Immerito, deliver this letter to the poser in my father's name. Marry, withal some sprinkling, some sprinkling; verbum sapienti sat est. Farewell, Master Immerito.

IMMERITO. I thank your worship most heartily.

PAGE. Is it not a shame to see this old dunce learning his induction at these years? But let him go, I lose nothing by him; for I'll be sworn, but for the booty of selling the parsonage, I should have gone in mine old clothes this Christmas. A dunce, I see, is a neighbour-like brute beast: a man may live by him. [Aside.

[AMORETTO seems to make verse.

AMORETTO. A pox on it, my muse is not so witty as she was wont to be: —— Her nose is like —— not yet; plague on these mathematics! they have spoiled my brain in making a verse.

PAGE. Hang me, if he hath any more mathematics than will serve to count the clock, or tell the meridian hour by rumbling of his paunch. [Aside.

AMORETTO. Her nose is like ——

PAGE. A cobbler's shoeing-horn.

AMORETTO. Her nose is like a beauteous maribone. [Aside.

PAGE. Marry, a sweet snotty mistress! [Aside.

AMORETTO. Faith, I do not like it yet. Ass as I was, to read a piece of Aristotle in Greek yesternight; it hath put me out of my English vein quite.

PAGE. O monstrous lie! let me be a point-trusser, while I live, if he understands any tongue but English. [Aside.

AMORETTO. Sirrah boy, remember me when I come in Paul's Churchyard to buy a Ronsard and [a] Dubartas in French, and Aretine in Italian; and our hardest writers in Spanish; they will sharpen my wits gallantly. I do relish these tongues in some sort. O, now I do remember, I hear a report of a poet newly come out in Hebrew; it is a pretty harsh tongue, and telleth[97] a gentleman traveller: but come, let's haste after my father; the fields are fitter to heavenly meditations. [Exit.

PAGE. My masters, I could wish your presence at an admirable jest: why presently this great linguist my master will march through Paul's Churchyard, come to a bookbinder's shop, and with a big Italian look and a Spanish face ask for these books in Spanish and Italian; then, turning (through his ignorance) the wrong end of the book upward, use action on this unknown tongue after this sort: First, look on the title, and wrinkle his brow; next make as though he read the first page, and bite 's lip;[98] then with his nail score the margent, as though there were some notable conceit; and, lastly, when he thinks he hath gulled the standers-by sufficiently, throws the book away in a rage, swearing that he could never find books of a true print since he was last in Joadna;[99] inquire after the next mart, and so departs. And so must I; for by this time his contemplation is arrived at his mistress's nose end; he is as glad as if he had taken Ostend.[100] By this time he begins to spit, and cry, Boy, carry my cloak: and now I go to attend on his worship.

[Exit.



ACTUS III., SCAENA 4.

Enter INGENIOSO, FUROR, PHANTASMA.

INGENIOSO. Come, lads; this wine whets your resolution in our design: it's a needy world with subtle spirits; and there's a gentlemanlike kind of begging, that may beseem poets in this age.

FUROR. Now by the wing of nimble Mercury, By my Thalia's silver-sounding harp, By that celestial fire within my brain, That gives a living genius to my lines, Howe'er my dulled intellectual Capers less nimbly than it did afore; Yet will I play a hunts-up to my muse, And make her mount from out her sluggish nest. As high as is the highest sphere in heaven. Awake, you paltry trulls of Helicon, Or, by this light, I'll swagger with you straight: You grandsire Phoebus, with your lovely eye, The firmament's eternal vagabond, The heaven's promoter, that doth peep and pry Into the acts of mortal tennis-balls, Inspire me straight with some rare delicies,[101] Or I'll dismount thee from thy radiant coach, And make thee poor[102] Cutchy here on earth.

PHANTASMA. Currus auriga paterni.

INGENIOSO. Nay, prythee, good Furor, do not rove in rhymes before thy time; thou hast a very terrible, roaring muse, nothing but squibs and fine jerks: quiet thyself a while, and hear thy charge.

PHANTASMA. Huc ades, haec animo concipe dicta tuo.

INGENIOSO. Let us on to our device, our plot, our project. That old Sir Raderic, that new printed compendium of all iniquity, that hath not aired his country chimney once in three winters; he that loves to live in an old corner here at London, and affect an old wench in a nook; one that loves to live in a narrow room, that he may with more facility in the dark light upon his wife's waiting-maid; one that loves alike a short sermon and a long play; one that goes to a play, to a whore, to his bed, in circle: good for nothing in the world but to sweat nightcaps and foul fair lawn shirts, feed a few foggy servingmen, and prefer dunces to livings—this old Sir Raderic, Furor, it shall be thy task to cudgel with thy thick, thwart terms; marry, at the first, give him some sugarcandy terms,[103] and then, if he will not untie purse-strings of his liberality, sting him with terms laid in aquafortis and gunpowder.

FUROR. In nova fert animus mutatas dicere formas. The servile current of my sliding verse Gentle shall run into his thick-skinn'd ears; Where it shall dwell like a magnifico, Command his slimy sprite to honour me For my high, tiptoe, strutting poesy: But if his stars hath favour'd him so ill, As to debar him by his dunghill thoughts, Justly to esteem my verses' lowting pitch, If his earth-rooting snout shall 'gin to scorn My verse that giveth immortality; Then Bella per Emathios—

PHANTASMA. Furor arma ministrat.

FUROR. I'll shake his heart upon my verses' point, Rip out his guts with riving poniard, Quarter his credit with a bloody quill.

PHANTASMA. Calami, atramentum, charta, libelli, Sunt semper studiis arma parata tuis.

INGENIOSO. Enough, Furor, we know thou art a nimble swaggerer with a goose-quill. Now for you, Phantasma: leave trussing your points, and listen.

PHANTASMA. Omne tulit punctum—

INGENIOSO. Mark you, Amoretto, Sir Raderic's son, to him shall thy piping poetry and sugar-ends of verses be directed: he is one that will draw out his pocket-glass thrice in a walk; one that dreams in a night of nothing but musk and civet, and talks of nothing all day long but his hawk, his hound, and his mistress; one that more admires the good wrinkle of a boot, the curious crinkling of a silk-stocking, than all the wit in the world; one that loves no scholar but him whose tired ears can endure half a day together his fly-blown sonnets of his mistress, and her loving, pretty creatures, her monkey and her puppy.[104] It shall be thy task, Phantasma, to cut this gull's throat with fair terms; and, if he hold fast for all thy juggling rhetoric, fall at defiance with him and the poking-stick he wears.

PHANTASMA. Simul extulit ensem.

INGENIOSO. Come, brave imps,[105] gather up your spirits, and let us march on, like adventurous knights, and discharge a hundred poetical spirits upon them.

PHANTASMA. Est deus in nobis: agitante calescimus illo.

[Exeunt.



ACTUS III., SCAENA 5.

Enter PHILOMUSUS, STUDIOSO.

STUDIOSO. Well, Philomusus, we never 'scaped so fair a scouring: why, yonder are pursuivants out for the French doctor, and a lodging bespoken for him and his man in Newgate. It was a terrible fear that made us cast our hair.

PHILOMUSUS. And canst thou sport at our calamities, And count'st us happy to 'scape prisonment? Why, the wide world, that blesseth some with weal,[106] Is to our chained thoughts a darksome jail.

STUDIOSO. Nay, prythee, friend, these wonted terms forego; He doubles grief, that comments on a woe.

PHILOMUSUS. Why do fond men term it impiety To send a wearisome, sad, grudging ghost Unto his home, his long-long, lasting home? Or let them make our life less grievous be, Or suffer us to end our misery.

STUDIOSO. O no; the sentinel his watch must keep, Until his lord do licence him to sleep.

PHILOMUSUS. It's time to sleep within our hollow graves, And rest us in the darksome womb of earth: Dead things are grav'd, our[107] bodies are no less Pin'd and forlorn, like ghostly carcases.

STUDIOSO. Not long this tap of loathed life can run; Soon cometh death, and then our woe is done: Meantime, good Philomusus, be content; Let's spend our days in hopeful merriment.

PHILOMUSUS. Curs'd be our thoughts, whene'er they dream of hope, Bann'd be those haps, that henceforth flatter us, When mischief dogs us still and still for ay, From our first birth until our burying day: In our first gamesome age, our doting sires Carked and cared to have us lettered, Sent us to Cambridge, where our oil is spent; Us our kind college from the teat did tear,[108] And forc'd us walk, before we weaned were. From that time since wandered have we still In the wide world, urg'd by our forced will, Nor ever have we happy fortune tried; Then why should hope with our rent state abide? Nay, let us run unto the baseful cave, Pight in the hollow ribs of craggy cliff, Where dreary owls do shriek the live-long night, Chasing away the birds of cheerful light; Where yawning ghosts do howl in ghastly wise, Where that dull, hollow-eyed, that staring sire, Yclep'd Despair, hath his sad mansion: Him let us find, and by his counsel we Will end our too much irked misery.

STUDIOSO. To wail thy haps, argues a dastard mind.

PHILOMUSUS. To bear[109] too long, argues an ass's kind.

STUDIOSO. Long since the worst chance of the die was cast.

PHILOMUSUS. But why should that word worst so long time last?

STUDIOSO. Why dost thou now these sleepy plaints commence?

PHILOMUSUS. Why should I e'er be dull'd with patience?

STUDIOSO. Wise folk do bear with, struggling cannot mend.

PHILOMUSUS. Good spirits must with thwarting fates contend.

STUDIOSO. Some hope is left our fortunes to redress.

PHILOMUSUS. No hope but this—e'er to be comfortless.

STUDIOSO. Our life's remainder gentler hearts may find.

PHILOMUSUS. The gentlest hearts to us will prove unkind.



ACTUS IV., SCAENA 1.

SIR RADERIC and PRODIGO at one corner of the stage; RECORDER and AMORETTO at the other: two PAGES scouring of tobacco-pipes.

SIR RADERIC. Master Prodigo, Master Recorder hath told you law—your land is forfeited; and for me not to take the forfeiture were to break the Queen's law. For mark you, it's law to take the forfeiture; therefore not to take[110] it is to break the Queen's law; and to break the Queen's law is not to be a good subject, and I mean to be a good subject. Besides, I am a justice of the peace; and, being justice of the peace, I must do justice—that is, law—that is, to take the forfeiture, especially having taken notice of it. Marry, Master Prodigo, here are a few shillings over and besides the bargain.

PRODIGO. Pox on your shillings! 'Sblood, a while ago, before he had me in the lurch, who but my cousin Prodigo? You are welcome, my cousin Prodigo. Take my cousin Prodigo's horse. A cup of wine for my cousin Prodigo. Good faith, you shall sit here, good cousin Prodigo. A clean trencher for my cousin Prodigo. Have a special care of my cousin Prodigo's lodging. Now, Master Prodigo with a pox, and a few shillings for a vantage. A plague on your shillings! Pox on your shillings! If it were not for the sergeant, which dogs me at my heels, a plague on your shillings! pox on your shillings! pox on yourself and your shillings! pox on your worship! If I catch thee at Ostend—I dare not stay for the sergeant. [Exit.

SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. Good faith, Master Prodigo is an excellent fellow. He takes the Gulan Ebullitio so excellently.

AMORETTO'S PAGE. He is a good liberal gentleman: he hath bestowed an ounce of tobacco upon us; and, as long as it lasts, come cut and long tail, we'll spend it as liberally for his sake.

SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. Come, fill the pipe quickly, while my master is in his melancholy humour; it's just the melancholy of a collier's horse.

AMORETTO'S PAGE. If you cough, Jack, after your tobacco, for a punishment you shall kiss the pantofle.

SIR RADERIC. It's a foul oversight, that a man of worship cannot keep a wench in his house, but there must be muttering and surmising. It was the wisest saying that my father ever uttered, that a wife was the name of necessity, not of pleasure; for what do men marry for, but to stock their ground, and to have one to look to the linen, sit at the upper end of the table, and carve up a capon; one that can wear a hood like a hawk, and cover her foul face with a fan. But there's no pleasure always to be tied to a piece of mutton; sometimes a mess of stewed broth will do well, and an unlaced rabbit is best of all. Well, for mine own part, I have no great cause to complain, for I am well-provided of three bouncing wenches, that are mine own fee-simple; one of them I am presently to visit, if I can rid myself cleanly of this company. Let me see how the day goes [he pulls his watch out]. Precious coals! the time is at hand; I must meditate on an excuse to be gone.

RECORDER. The which, I say, is grounded on the statute I spake of before, enacted in the reign of Henry VI.

AMORETTO. It is a plain case, whereon I mooted[111] in our Temple, and that was this: put case, there be three brethren, John a Nokes, John a Nash, and John a Stile. John a Nokes the elder, John a Nash the younger, and John a Stile the youngest of all. John a Nash the younger dieth without issue of his body lawfully begotten. Whether shall his lands ascend to John a Nokes the elder, or descend to John a Stile the youngest of all? The answer is, the lands do collaterally descend, not ascend.

RECORDER. Very true; and for a proof hereof I will show you a place in Littleton which is very pregnant in this point.



ACTUS IV., SCAENA 2.

Enter INGENIOSO, FUROR, PHANTASMA.

INGENIOSO. I'll pawn my wits, that is, my revenues, my land, my money, and whatsoever I have, for I have nothing but my wit, that they are at hand. Why, any sensible snout may wind Master Amoretto and his pomander, Master Recorder and his two neat's feet that wear no socks, Sir Raderic by his rammish complexion; Olet Gorgonius hircum, sicut Lupus in fabula. Furor, fire the touch-box of your wit: Phantasma, let your invention play tricks like an ape: begin thou, Furor, and open like a flap-mouthed hound: follow thou, Phantasma, like a lady's puppy: and as for me, let me alone; I'll come after, like a water-dog, that will shake them off when I have no use of them. My masters, the watchword is given. Furor, discharge.

FUROR to SIR RADERIC. The great projector of the thunderbolts, He that is wont to piss whole clouds of rain Into the earth, vast gaping urinal, Which that one-ey'd subsizer of the sky, Dan Phoebus, empties by calidity; He and his townsmen planets brings to thee Most fatty lumps of earth's fecundity.[112]

SIR RADERIC. Why, will this fellow's English break the Queen's peace? I will not seem to regard him.

PHANTASMA to AMORETTO. [Reads from a Horace, addressing himself.] Mecaenas, atavis edite regibus, O, et praesidium et dulce decus meum, Dii faciant votis vela secunda tuis.

INGENIOSO. God save you, good Master Recorder, and good fortunes follow your deserts. I think I have cursed him sufficiently in few words. [Aside.

SIR RADERIC. What have we here? three begging soldiers? Come you from Ostend or from Ireland?

PAGE. Cujum pecus? an Melibaei? I have vented all the Latin one man had.

PHANTASMA. Quid dicam amplius? domini similis os.

AMORETTO'S PAGE. Let him [not] alone, I pray thee. To him again: tickle him there!

PHANTASMA. Quam dispari domino dominaris?

RECORDER. Nay, that's plain in Littleton; for if that fee-simple and fee-tail be put together, it is called hotch-potch. Now, this word hotch-potch in English is a pudding; for in such a pudding is not commonly one thing only, but one thing with another.

AMORETTO. I think I do remember this also at a mooting in our Temple. So then this hotch-potch seems a term of similitude?

FUROR to SIR RADERIC. Great Capricornus, of thy head take keep: Good Virgo, watch, while that thy worship sleep; And when thy swelling vents amain, Then Pisces be thy sporting chamberlain.

SIR RADERIC. I think the devil hath sent some of his family to torment me.

AMORETTO. There is tail-general and tail-special, and Littleton is very copious in that theme; for tail-general is when lands are given to a man and his heirs of his body begotten; tail-special is when lands are given to a man and to his wife, and to the heirs of their two bodies lawfully begotten; and that is called tail-special.

SIR RADERIC. Very well; and for his oath I will give a distinction. There is a material oath and a formal oath; the formal oath may be broken, the material may not be broken: for mark you, sir, the law is to take place before the conscience, and therefore you may, using me your councillor, cast him in the suit. There wants nothing to be full meaning of this place.

PHANTASMA. Nihil hic nisi carmina desunt.

INGENIOSO. An excellent observation, in good faith. See how the old fox teacheth the young cub to worry a sheep; or rather sits himself, like an old goose, hatching the addle brain of Master Amoretto. There is no fool to the satin fool, the velvet fool, the perfumed fool; and therefore the witty tailors of this age put them under colour of kindness into a pair of cloth bags, where a voider will not serve the turn. And there is no knave to the barbarous knave, the moulting knave, the pleading knave.—What, ho! Master Recorder? Master Noverint universi per presentes,—not a word he, unless he feels it in his fist.

PHANTASMA. Mitto tibi merulas, cancros imitare legendo.

SIR RADERIC to FUROR. Fellow, what art thou, that art so bold?

FUROR. I am the bastard of great Mercury, Got on Thalia when she was asleep: My gaudy grandsire, great Apollo hight,[113] Born was, I hear, but that my luck was ill, To all the land upon the forked hill.

PHANTASMA. O crudelis Alexi, nil mea carmina curas? Nil nostri miserere? mori me denique coges?

SIR RADERIC to PAGE. If you use them thus, my master is a justice of peace, and will send you all to the gallows.

PHANTASMA. Hei mihi, quod domino non licet ire tuo?[114]

INGENIOSO. Good Master Recorder, let me retain you this term—for my cause, good Master Recorder.

RECORDER. I am retained already on the contrary part. I have taken my fee; begone, begone.

INGENIOSO. It's his meaning I should come off.[115] Why, here is the true style of a villain, the true faith of a lawyer; it is usual with them to be bribed on the one side, and then to take a fee of the other; to plead weakly, and to be bribed and rebribed on the one side, then to be fee'd and refee'd of the other; till at length, per varios casus, by putting the case so often, they make their clients so lank, that they may case them up in a comb-case, and pack them home from the term, as though they had travelled to London to sell their horse only; and, having lost their fleeces, live afterward like poor shorn sheep.

FUROR. The gods above, that know great Furor's fame, And do adore grand poet Furor's name, Granted long since at heaven's high parliament, That whoso Furor shall immortalise, No yawning goblins shall frequent his grave; Nor any bold, presumptuous cur shall dare To lift his leg against his sacred dust. Where'er I have my rhymes, thence vermin fly, All, saving that foul-fac'd vermin poverty. This sucks the eggs of my invention, Evacuates my wit's full pigeon-house. Now may it please thy generous dignity To take this vermin napping, as he lies In the true trap of liberality, I'll cause the Pleiades to give thee thanks; I'll write thy name within the sixteenth sphere: I'll make th'Antarctic pole to kiss thy toe. And Cynthia to do homage to thy tail.

SIR RADERIC. Precious coals! thou a man of worship and justice too? It's even so, he is either a madman or a conjuror. It were well if his words were examined, to see if they be the Queen's or no.

PHANTASMA. Nunc si nos audis, tu qui es divinus Apollo, Dic mihi, qui nummos non habet, unde petat?

AMORETTO. I am still haunted with these needy Latinist fellows.—The best counsel I can give is, to be gone.

PHANTASMA. Quod peto da, Caie; non peto consilium.

AMORETTO. Fellow, look to your brains; you are mad, you are mad.

PHANTASMA. Semel insanivimus omnes.

AMORETTO. Master Recorder, is it not a shame that a gallant cannot walk the street quietly for needy fellows, and that, after there is a statute come out against begging? [He strikes his breast.

PHANTASMA. Pectora percussit, pectus quoque robora fiunt.

RECORDER. I warrant you, they are some needy graduates; the university breaks wind twice a year, and let's fly such as these are.

INGENIOSO. So ho, Master Recorder. You that are one of the devil's fellow-commoners; one that sizeth the devil's butteries, sins, and perjuries very lavishly; one that are so dear to Lucifer, that he never puts you out of commons for nonpayment; you that live, like a sumner, upon the sins of the people; you whose vocation serves to enlarge the territories of hell that, but for you, had been no bigger than a pair of stocks or a pillory; you, that hate a scholar because he descries your ass's ears; you that are a plague-stuffed cloak-bag of all iniquity, which the grand serving-man of hell will one day truss up behind him, and carry to his smoky wardrobe.

RECORDER. What frantic fellow art thou, that art possessed with the spirit of malediction?

FUROR. Vile, muddy clod of base, unhallowed clay, Thou slimy-sprighted, unkind Saracen, When thou wert born, Dame Nature cast her calf; For age and time hath made thee a great ox, And now thy grinding jaws devour quite The fodder due to us of heavenly spright.

PHANTASMA. Nefasto te posuit die, Quicunque primum, et sacrilega manu Produxit arbos in nepotum Perniciem obpropriumque pugi.

INGENIOSO. I pray you, Monsieur Ploidon, of what university was the first lawyer of? None, forsooth: for your law is ruled by reason, and not by art; great reason, indeed, that a Polydenist should be mounted on a trapped palfry with a round velvet dish on his head, to keep warm the broth of his wit, and a long gown that makes him look like a Cedant arma togae, whilst the poor Aristotelians walk in a short cloak and a close Venetian hose, hard by the oyster-wife; and the silly poet goes muffled in his cloak to escape the counter. And you, Master Amoretto, that art the chief carpenter of sonnets, a privileged vicar for the lawless marriage of ink and paper, you that are good for nothing but to commend in a set speech, to colour the quantity of your mistress's stool, and swear it is most sweet civet; it's fine, when that puppet-player Fortune must put such a Birchen-Lane post in so good a suit, such an ass in so good fortune!

AMORETTO. Father, shall I draw?

SIR RADERIC. No, son; keep thy peace, and hold the peace.

INGENIOSO. Nay, do not draw, lest you chance to bepiss your credit.

FUROR. Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo. Fearful Megaera, with her snaky twine, Was cursed dam unto thy damned self; And Hircan tigers in the desert rocks Did foster up thy loathed, hateful life; Base Ignorance the wicked cradle rock'd, Vile Barbarism was wont to dandle thee; Some wicked hellhound tutored thy youth. And all the grisly sprights of griping hell With mumming look hath dogg'd thee since thy birth: See how the spirits do hover o'er thy head, As thick as gnats in summer eveningtide. Baleful Alecto, prythee, stay awhile, Till with my verses I have rack'd his soul; And when thy soul departs, a cock may be No blank at all in hell's great lottery— Shame sits and howls upon thy loathed grave, And howling, vomits up in filthy guise The hidden stories of thy villanies.

SIR RADERIC. The devil, my masters, the devil in the likeness of a poet! Away, my masters, away!

PHANTASMA. Arma, virumque cano. Quem fugis, ah demens?

AMORETTO. Base dog, it is not the custom in Italy to draw upon every idle cur that barks; and, did it stand with my reputation—O, well, go to; thank my father for your lives.

INGENIOSO. Fond gull, whom I would undertake to bastinado quickly, though there were a musket planted in thy mouth, are not you the young drover of livings Academico told me of, that haunts steeple fairs? Base worm, must thou needs discharge thy carbine[116] to batter down the walls of learning?

AMORETTO. I think I have committed some great sin against my mistress, that I am thus tormented with notable villains, bold peasants. I scorn, I scorn them! [Exit.

FUROR to RECORDER. Nay, prythee, good sweet devil, do not thou part; I like an honest devil, that will show Himself in a true hellish, smoky hue: How like thy snout is to great Lucifer's? Such talents[117] had he, such a gleering eye, And such a cunning sleight in villany.

RECORDER. O, the impudency of this age! And if I take you in my quarters— [Exit.

FUROR. Base slave, I'll hang thee on a crossed rhyme, And quarter—

INGENIOSO. He is gone; Furor, stay thy fury.

SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. I pray you, gentlemen, give three groats for a shilling.

AMORETTO'S PAGE. What will you give me for a good old suit of apparel?

PHANTASMA. Habet et musca splenem, et formicae sua bilis inest.

INGENIOSO. Gramercy,[118] good lads. This is our share in happiness, to torment the happy. Let's walk along and laugh at the jest; it's no staying here long, lest Sir Raderic's army of bailiffs and clowns be sent to apprehend us.

PHANTASMA. Procul hinc, procul ite, profani. I'll lash Apollo's self with jerking hand, Unless he pawn his wit to buy me land.



ACTUS IV., SCAENA 3.

BURBAGE, KEMP.

BURBAGE. Now, Will Kemp, if we can entertain these scholars at a low rate, it will be well; they have oftentimes a good conceit in a part.

KEMP. It's true, indeed, honest Dick, but the slaves are somewhat proud; and besides, it's a good sport in a part to see them never speak in their walk, but at the end of the stage; just as though, in walking with a fellow, we should never speak but at a stile, a gate, or a ditch, where a man can go no further. I was once at a comedy in Cambridge, and there I saw a parasite make faces and mouths of all sorts on this fashion.

BURBAGE. A little teaching will mend these faults; and it may be, besides, they will be able to pen a part.

KEMP. Few of the university pen play well; they smell too much of that writer Ovid and that writer Metamorphosis, and talk too much of Proserpina and Jupiter. Why, here's our fellow Shakespeare puts them all down—ay, and Ben Jonson too. O, that Ben Jonson is a pestilent fellow; he brought up Horace, giving the poets a pill;[119] but our fellow Shakespeare hath given him a purge that made him bewray his credit.

BURBAGE. It's a shrewd fellow, indeed. I wonder these scholars stay so long; they appointed to be here presently, that we might try them. O, here they come.

STUDIOSO. Take heart, these lets our clouded thoughts refine; The sun shines brightest when it 'gins decline.

BURBAGE. Master Philomusus and Master Studioso, God save you.

KEMP. Master Philomusus and Master Otioso,[120] well-met.

PHILOMUSUS. The same to you, good Master Burbage. What, Master Kemp, how doth the Emperor of Germany?[121]

STUDIOSO. God save you, Master Kemp; welcome, Master Kemp, from dancing the morris over the Alps.

KEMP. Well, you merry knaves, you may come to the honour of it one day. Is it not better to make a fool of the world as I have done, than to be fooled of the world, as you scholars are? But be merry, my lads; you have happened upon the most excellent vocation in the world for money. They come north and south to bring it to our playhouse; and for honours, who of more report than Dick Burbage and Will Kemp? He is not counted a gentleman that knows not Dick Burbage and Will Kemp. There's not a country wench that can dance Sellenger's round,[122] but can talk of Dick Burbage and Will Kemp.

PHILOMUSUS. Indeed, Master Kemp, you are very famous; but that is as well for works in print, as your part in cue.[123]

KEMP. You are at Cambridge still with size cue, and be lusty humorous poets. You must untruss; I rode this my last circuit purposely, because I would be judge of your actions.

BURBAGE. Master Studioso, I pray you, take some part in this book, and act it, that I may see what will fit you best. I think your voice would serve for Hieronimo; observe how I act it, and then imitate me. [He recites.

STUDIOSO. Who call Hieronimo from his naked bed? And_, &c.[124]

BURBAGE. You will do well—after a while.

KEMP.

Now for you. Methinks you should belong to my tuition; and your face, methinks, would be good for a foolish mayor or a foolish justice of peace. Mark me:—

Forasmuch as there be two states of a commonwealth, the one of peace, the other of tranquillity; two states of war, the one of discord, the other of dissension; two states of an incorporation, the one of the aldermen, the other of the brethren; two states of magistrates, the one of governing, the other of bearing rule. Now, as I said even now—for a good thing[125] cannot be said too often. Virtue is the shoeing-horn of justice; that is, virtue is the shoeing-horn of doing well; that is, virtue is the shoeing-horn of doing justly; it behoveth me, and is my part to commend this shoeing-horn unto you. I hope this word shoeing-horn doth not offend any of you, my worshipful brethren; for you, being the worshipful headsmen of the town, know well what the horn meaneth. Now therefore I am determined not only to teach, but also to instruct, not only the ignorant, but also the simple; not only what is their duty towards their betters, but also what is their duty towards their superiors.

Come, let me see how you can do; sit down in the chair.

PHILOMUSUS. Forasmuch as there be, &c.

KEMP. Thou wilt do well in time, if thou wilt be ruled by thy betters, that is, by myself, and such grave aldermen of the playhouse as I am.

BURBAGE. I like your face, and the proportion of your body for Richard the Third. I pray, Master Philomusus, let me see you act a little of it.

PHILOMUSUS. Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by the sun of York.

BURBAGE. Very well, I assure you. Well, Master Philomusus and Master Studioso, we see what ability you are of; I pray, walk with us to our fellows, and we'll agree presently.

PHILOMUSUS. We will follow you straight, Master Burbage.

KEMP. It's good manners to follow us, Master Philomusus and Master Otioso.

PHILOMUSUS. And must the basest trade yield us relief? Must we be practis'd to those leaden spouts, That nought down vent but what they do receive? Some fatal fire hath scorch'd our fortune's wing, And still we fall, as we do upward spring? As we strive upward on the vaulted sky, We fall, and feel our hateful destiny.

STUDIOSO. Wonder it is, sweet friend, thy pleading breath, So like the sweet blast of the south-west wind, Melts not those rocks of ice, those mounts of snow,[126] Congeal'd in frozen hearts of men below.

PHILOMUSUS. Wonder, as well thou may'st, why 'mongst the waves— 'Mongst the tempestuous waves on raging sea, The wailing merchant can no pity crave. What cares the wind and weather for their pains? One strikes the sail, another turns the same; He shakes the main, another takes the oar, Another laboureth and taketh pain To pump the sea into the sea again: Still they take pains, still the loud winds do blow, Till the ship's prouder mast be laid below.

STUDIOSO. Fond world, that ne'er think'st on that aged man— That Ariosto's old swift-paced man, Whose name is Time, who never lins to run, Loaden with bundles of decayed names, The which in Lethe's lake he doth entomb, Save only those which swan-like scholars take, And do deliver from that greedy lake. Inglorious may they live, inglorious die, That suffer learning live in misery.

PHILOMUSUS. What caren they what fame their ashes have, When once they're coop'd up in the silent grave?

STUDIOSO. If for fair fame they hope not when they die. Yet let them fear grave's staining infamy.

PHILOMUSUS. Their spendthrift heirs will those firebrands quench, Swaggering full moistly on a tavern's bench.

STUDIOSO. No shamed sire, for all his glosing heir, Must long be talk'd of in the empty air. Believe me, thou that art my second self, My vexed soul is not disquieted, For that I miss is gaudy-painted state, Whereat my fortunes fairly aim'd of late: For what am I, the mean'st of many mo, That, earning profit, are repaid with woe. But this it is that doth my soul torment: To think so many activable wits, That might contend with proudest bards[127] of Po, Sit now immur'd within their private cells, Drinking a long lank watching candle's smoke, Spending the marrow of their flow'ring age In fruitless poring on some worm-eat leaf: When their deserts shall seem of due to claim A cheerful crop of fruitful swelling sheaf; Cockle their harvest is, and weeds their grain, Contempt their portion, their possession, pain. Scholars must frame to live at a low sail.

PHILOMUSUS. Ill-sailing, where there blows no happy gale!

STUDIOSO. Our ship is ruin'd, all her tackling rent.

PHILOMUSUS. And all her gaudy furniture is spent.

STUDIOSO. Tears be the waves whereon her ruins bide.

PHILOMUSUS. And sighs the winds that waste her broken side.

STUDIOSO. Mischief the pilot is the ship to steer.

PHILOMUSUS. And woe the passenger this ship doth bear.

STUDIOSO. Come, Philomusus, let us break this chat.

PHILOMUSUS. And break, my heart! O, would I could break that!

STUDIOSO. Let's learn to act that tragic part we have.

PHILOMUSUS. Would I were silent actor in my grave!



ACTUS V., SCAENA 1.

PHILOMUSUS and STUDIOSO become fiddlers: with their concert.

PHILOMUSUS. And tune, fellow-fiddlers; Studioso and I are ready.

[They tune.

STUDIOSO, going aside, sayeth, Fair fell good Orpheus, that would rather be King of a molehill than a keisar's slave: Better it is 'mongst fiddlers to be chief, Than at [a] player's trencher beg relief. But is't not strange, this mimic ape should prize Unhappy scholars at a hireling rate? Vile world, that lifts them up to high degree, And treads us down in groveling misery. England affords those glorious vagabonds, That carried erst their fardles on their backs, Coursers to ride on through the gazing streets, Sweeping[128] it in their glaring satin suits, And pages to attend their masterships: With mouthing words that better wits have framed, They purchase lands, and now esquires are made.[129]

PHILOMUSUS. Whate'er they seem, being ev'n at the best, They are but sporting fortune's scornful jest.

STUDIOSO. So merry fortune's wont from rags to take Some ragged groom, and him a[130] gallant make.

PHILOMUSUS. The world and fortune hath play'd on us too long.

STUDIOSO. Now to the world we fiddle must a song.

PHILOMUSUS. Our life is a plain-song with cunning penn'd, Whose highest pitch in lowest base doth end. But see, our fellows unto play are bent; If not our minds, let's tune our instrument.

STUDIOSO. Let's in a private song our cunning try, Before we sing to stranger company.

[PHILOMUSUS sings. They tune.

How can he sing, whose voice is hoarse with care? How can he play, whose heart-strings broken are? How can he keep his rest, that ne'er found rest? How can he keep his time, whom time ne'er bless'd? Only he can in sorrow bear a part With untaught hand and with untuned heart. Fond hearts, farewell, that swallow'd have my youth; Adieu, vain muses, that have wrought my ruth; Repent, fond sire, that train'dst thy hapless son In learning's lore, since bounteous alms are done. Cease, cease, harsh tongue: untuned music, rest; Entomb thy sorrows in thy hollow breast.

STUDIOSO. Thanks, Philomusus, for thy pleasant song. O, had this world a touch of juster grief, Hard rocks would weep for want of our relief.

PHILOMUSUS. The cold of woe hath quite untun'd my voice, And made it too-too hard for list'ning ear: Time was, in time of my young fortune's spring, I was a gamesome boy, and learn'd to sing— But say, fellow-musicians, you know best whither we go: at what door must we imperiously beg?

JACK FIDDLERS. Here dwells Sir Raderic and his son. It may be now at this good time of new year he will be liberal. Let us stand near, and draw.

PHILOMUSUS. Draw, callest thou it? Indeed, it is the most desperate kind of service that ever I adventured on.



ACTUS V., SCAENA 2.

Enter the two PAGES.

SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. My master bids me tell you that he is but newly fallen asleep, and you, base slaves, must come and disquiet them! What, never a basket of capons? mass, and if he comes, he'll commit you all.

AMORETTO'S PAGE. Sirrah Jack, shall you and I play Sir Raderic and Amoretto, and reward these fiddlers? I'll my Master Amoretto, and give them as much as he useth.

SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. And I my old Master Sir Raderic. Fiddlers, play. I'll reward you; faith, I will.

AMORETTO'S PAGE. Good faith, this pleaseth my sweet mistress admirably. Cannot you play Twitty, twatty, fool? or, To be at her, to be at her?

SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. Have you never a song of Master Dowland's making?

AMORETTO'S PAGE. Or, Hos ego versiculos feci, &c. A pox on it! my Master Amoretto useth it very often: I have forgotten the verse.

SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. Sir Theon,[131] here are a couple of fellows brought before me, and I know not how to decide the cause: look in my Christmas-book, who brought me a present.

AMORETTO'S PAGE. On New-Year's day, goodman Fool brought you a present; but goodman Clown brought you none.

SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. Then the right is on goodman Fool's side.

AMORETTO'S PAGE. My mistress is so sweet, that all the physicians in the town cannot make her stink; she never goes to the stool. O, she is a most sweet little monkey. Please your worship, good father, yonder are some would speak with you.

SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. What, have they brought me anything? If they have not, say I take physic. [SIR RADERIC'S voice within.] Forasmuch, fiddlers, as I am of the peace, I must needs love all weapons and instruments that are for the peace, among which I account your fiddles, because they can neither bite nor scratch. Marry, now, finding your fiddles to jar, and knowing that jarring is a cause of breaking the peace, I am, by the virtue of my office and place, to commit your quarrelling fiddles to close prisonment in their cases. [The fiddlers call within.] Sha ho! Richard! Jack!

AMORETTO'S PAGE. The fool within mars our play without. Fiddlers, set it on my head. I use to size my music, or go on the score for it: I'll pay it at the quarter's end.

SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. Farewell, good Pan! sweet Thamyras,[132] adieu! Dan Orpheus, a thousand times farewell!

JACK FIDDLERS. You swore you would pay us for our music.

SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. For that I'll give Master Recorder's law, and that is this: there is a double oath—a formal oath and a material oath; a material oath cannot be broken, the formal oath may be broken. I swore formally. Farewell, fiddlers.

PHILOMUSUS. Farewell, good wags, whose wits praiseworth I deem, Though somewhat waggish; so we all have been.

STUDIOSO. Faith, fellow-fiddlers, here's no silver found in this place; no, not so much as the usual Christmas entertainment of musicians, a black jack of beer and a Christmas pie.

[They walk aside from their fellows.

PHILOMUSUS. Where'er we in the wide world playing be, Misfortune bears a part, and mars our melody; Impossible to please with music's strain, Our heart-strings broke are, ne'er to be tun'd again.

STUDIOSO. Then let us leave this baser fiddling trade; For though our purse should mend, our credits fade.

PHILOMUSUS. Full glad am I to see thy mind's free course. Declining from this trencher-waiting trade. Well, may I now disclose in plainer guise What erst I meant to work in secret wise; My busy conscience check'd my guilty soul, For seeking maintenance by base vassalage; And then suggested to my searching thought A shepherd's poor, secure, contented life, On which since then I doated every hour, And meant this same hour in [a] sadder plight, To have stol'n from thee in secrecy of night.

STUDIOSO. Dear friend, thou seem'st to wrong my soul too much, Thinking that Studioso would account That fortune sour which thou accountest sweet; Not[133] any life to me can sweeter be, Than happy swains in plain of Arcady.

PHILOMUSUS. Why, then, let's both go spend our little store In the provision of due furniture, A shepherd's hook, a tar-box, and a scrip: And haste unto those sheep-adorned hills, Where if not bless our fortunes, we may bless our wills.

STUDIOSO. True mirth we may enjoy in thacked stall, Nor hoping higher rise, nor fearing lower fall.

PHILOMUSUS. We'll therefore discharge these fiddlers. Fellow-musicians, we are sorry that it hath been your ill-hap to have had us in your company, that are nothing but screech-owls and night-ravens, able to mar the purest melody: and, besides, our company is so ominous that, where we are, thence liberality is packing. Our resolution is therefore to wish you well, and to bid you farewell. Come, Studioso, let us haste away, Returning ne'er to this accursed place.



ACTUS V., SCAENA 3.

Enter INGENIOSO, ACADEMICO.

INGENIOSO. Faith, Academico, it's the fear of that fellow—I mean, the sign of the sergeant's head—that makes me to be so hasty to be gone. To be brief, Academico, writs are out for me to apprehend me for my plays; and now I am bound for the Isle of Dogs. Furor and Phantasma comes after, removing the camp as fast they can. Farewell, mea si quid vota valebunt.

ACADEMICO. Faith, Ingenioso, I think the university is a melancholic life; for there a good fellow cannot sit two hours in his chamber, but he shall be troubled with the bill of a drawer or a vintner. But the point is, I know not how to better myself, and so I am fain to take it.



ACTUS V., SCAENA 4.

PHILOMUSUS, STUDIOSO, FUROR, PHANTASMA.

PHILOMUSUS. Who have we there? Ingenioso and Academico?

STUDIOSO. The very same; who are those? Furor and Phantasma?

[FUROR takes a louse off his sleeve.

FUROR. And art thou there, six-footed Mercury?

[PHANTASMA, with his hand in his bosom.

Are rhymes become such creepers nowadays? Presumptuous louse, that doth good manners lack, Daring to creep upon poet Furor's back!

Multum refert quibuscum vixeris: Non videmus manticae quod in tergo est.

PHILOMUSUS. What, Furor and Phantasma too, our old college fellows? Let us encounter them all. Ingenioso, Academico, Furor, Phantasma, God save you all.

STUDIOSO. What, Ingenioso, Academico, Furor, Phantasma, how do you, brave lads?

INGENIOSO. What, our dear friends Philomusus and Studioso?

ACADEMICO. What, our old friends Philomusus and Studioso?

FUROR. What, my supernatural friends?

INGENIOSO. What news with you in this quarter of the city?

PHILOMUSUS. We've run[134] through many trades, yet thrive by none, Poor in content, and only rich in moan. A shepherd's life, thou know'st I wont t'admire, Turning a Cambridge apple by the fire: To live in humble dale we now are bent, Spending our days in fearless merriment.

STUDIOSO. We'll teach each tree, ev'n of the hardest kind, To keep our woful name within their rind: We'll watch our flock, and yet we'll sleep withal: We'll tune our sorrows to the water's fall. The woods and rocks with our shrill songs we'll bless; Let them prove kind, since men prove pitiless. But say, whither are you and your company jogging? it seems by your apparel you are about to wander.

INGENIOSO. Faith we are fully bent to be lords of misrule in the world's wide heath: our voyage is to the Isle of Dogs, there where the blatant beast doth rule and reign, renting the credit of whom it please. Where serpents' tongues the penmen are to write, Where cats do wawl by day, dogs by night. There shall engorged venom be my ink, My pen a sharper quill of porcupine, My stained paper this sin-loaden earth. There will I write in lines shall never die, Our seared lordings' crying villany.

PHILOMUSUS. A gentle wit thou hadst, nor is it blame To turn so tart, for time hath wrong'd the same.

STUDIOSO. And well thou dost from this fond earth to flit, Where most men's pens are hired parasites.

ACADEMICO. Go happily; I wish thee store of gall Sharply to wound the guilty world withal.

PHILOMUSUS. But say, what shall become of Furor and Phantasma?

INGENIOSO. These my companions still with me must wend.

ACADEMICO. Fury and Fancy on good wits attend.

FUROR. When I arrive within the Isle of Dogs, Dan Phoebus, I will make thee kiss the pump. Thy one eye pries in every draper's stall, Yet never thinks on poet Furor's need. Furor is lousy, great Furor lousy is; I'll make thee rue[135] this lousy case, i-wis. And thou, my sluttish[136] laundress, Cynthia, Ne'er think'st on Furor's linen, Furor's shirt. Thou and thy squirting boy Endymion Lies slav'ring still upon a lawless couch. Furor will have thee carted through the dirt, That mak'st great poet Furor want his shirt.

INGENIOSO. Is not here a trusty[137] dog, that dare bark so boldly at the moon?

PHILOMUSUS. Exclaiming want, and needy care and cark, Would make the mildest sprite to bite and bark.

PHANTASMA. Canes timidi vehementius latrant. There are certain burrs in the Isle of Dogs called, in our English tongue, men of worship; certain briars, as the Indians call them; as we say, certain lawyers; certain great lumps of earth, as the Arabians call them; certain grocers, as we term them. Quos ego—sed motos praestat componere fluctus.

INGENIOSO. We three unto the snarling island haste, And there our vexed breath in snarling waste.

PHILOMUSUS. We will be gone unto the downs of Kent, Sure footing we shall find in humble dale; Our fleecy flock we'll learn to watch and ward, In July's heat, and cold of January. We'll chant our woes upon an oaten reed, Whiles bleating flock upon their supper feed.

STUDIOSO. So shall we shun the company of men, That grows more hateful, as the world grows old. We'll teach the murm'ring brooks in tears to flow, And steepy rock to wail our passed woe.

ACADEMICO. Adieu, you gentle spirits, long adieu; Your wits I love, and your ill-fortunes rue. I'll haste me to my Cambridge cell again; My fortunes cannot wax, but they may wain.

INGENIOSO. Adieu, good shepherds; happy may you live. And if hereafter in some secret shade You shall recount poor scholars' miseries, Vouchsafe to mention with tear-swelling eyes Ingenioso's thwarting destinies. And thou, still happy Academico, That still may'st rest upon the muses' bed, Enjoying there a quiet slumbering, When thou repair'st[138] unto thy Granta's stream, Wonder at thine own bliss, pity our case, That still doth tread ill-fortune's endless maze; Wish them, that are preferment's almoners, To cherish gentle wits in their green bud; For had not Cambridge been to me unkind, I had not turn'd to gall a milky mind.

PHILOMUSUS. I wish thee of good hap a plenteous store; Thy wit deserves no less, my love can wish no more. Farewell, farewell, good Academico; Ne'er may'st thou taste of our fore-passed woe. We wish thy fortunes may attain their due.— Furor and you, Phantasma, both adieu,

ACADEMICO. Farewell, farewell, farewell; O, long farewell! The rest my tongue conceals, let sorrow tell.

PHANTASMA. Et longum vale, inquit Iola.

FUROR. Farewell, my masters; Furor's a masty dog, Nor can with a smooth glosing farewell cog. Nought can great Furor do but bark and howl, And snarl, and grin, and carl, and touse the world, Like a great swine, by his long, lean-ear'd lugs. Farewell, musty, dusty, rusty, fusty London; Thou art not worthy of great Furor's wit, That cheatest virtue of her due desert, And suffer'st great Apollo's son to want.

INGENIOSO. Nay, stay awhile, and help me to content So many gentle wits' attention, Who ken the laws of every comic stage, And wonder that our scene ends discontent. Ye airy wits subtle, Since that few scholars' fortunes are content, Wonder not if our scene ends discontent. When that your fortunes reach their due content, Then shall our scene end here in merriment.

PHILOMUSUS. Perhaps some happy wit with seely[139] hand Hereafter may record the pastoral Of the two scholars of Parnassus hill, And then our scene may end, and have content.

INGENIOSO. Meantime, if there be any spiteful ghost, That smiles to see poor scholars' miseries, Cold is his charity, his wit too dull: We scorn his censure, he's a jeering gull. But whatsoe'er refined sprites there be, That deeply groan at our calamity: Whose breath is turn'd to sighs, whose eyes are wet, To see bright arts bent to their latest set; Whence never they again their heads shall rear, To bless our art-disgracing hemisphere, Let them. FUROR. Let them. all give us a plaudite. PHANTASMA. Let them.

ACADEMICO. And none but them. PHILOMUSUS. give us a plaudite. And none but them. STUDIOSO. And none but them.

FINIS.



WILY BEGUILED.



_EDITION.

A Pleasant Comedie, called Wily Begvilde. The Chiefe Actors be these: A poore scholler, a rich Foole, and a Knaue at a shifte. At London, Printed by H.L. for Clement Knight, and are to be solde at his Shop, in Paules Church-yard, at the signe of the Holy Lambe_. 1606. 4to.

[There were later editions in 1623, 1635, and 1638, all in 4to. That of 1606 is the most correct.

Hawkins, who included this piece in his collection, observes: "Wily Beguiled is a regular and very pleasing Comedy; and if it were judiciously adapted to the manners of the times, would make no contemptible appearance on the modern stage."]



SPECTRUM, THE PROLOGUE.

What, ho! where are these paltry players? still poring in their papers, and never perfect? For shame, come forth; your audience stay so long, their eyes wax dim with expectation.

Enter one of the PLAYERS.

How now, my honest rogue? What play shall we have here to-night?

PLAYER. Sir, you may look upon the title.

PROLOGUE. What, Spectrum once again? Why, noble Cerberus, nothing but patch-panel stuff, old gallymawfries, and cotton-candle eloquence? Out, you bawling bandog! fox-furred slave! you dried stock-fish, you, out of my sight!

[Exit the PLAYER.

Well, 'tis no matter! I'll sit me down and see it; and, for fault of a better, I'll supply the place of a scurvy prologue.

Spectrum is a looking-glass, indeed, Wherein a man a history may read Of base conceits and damned roguery: The very sink of hell-bred villany.

Enter a JUGGLER.

JUGGLER. Why, how now, humorous George? What, as melancholy as a mantle-tree? Will you see any tricks of legerdemain, sleight of hand, cleanly conveyance, or deceptio visus? What will you see, gentleman, to drive you out of these dumps.

PROLOGUE. Out, you soused gurnet, you woolfist! Begone, I say, and bid the players despatch, and come away quickly; and tell their fiery poet that, before I have done with him I'll make him do penance upon a stage in a calf's skin.

JUGGLER. O Lord, sir, ye are deceived in me, I am no tale-carrier; I am a juggler. I have the superficial skill of all the seven liberal sciences at my fingers' end. I'll show you a trick of the twelves, and turn him over the thumbs with a trice; I'll make him fly swifter than meditation. I'll show you as many toys as there be minutes in a month, and as many tricks as there be motes in the sun.

PROLOGUE. Prythee, what tricks canst thou do?

JUGGLER. Marry, sir, I will show you a trick of cleanly conveyance—Hei, fortuna furim nunquam credo—with a cast of clean conveyance. Come aloft, Jack, for thy master's advantage. He's gone, I warrant ye.

[SPECTRUM is conveyed away, and WILY BEGUILED stands in the place of it.

PROLOGUE.

Mass, and 'tis well done! Now I see thou canst do something. Hold thee; there is twelvepence for thy labour.

Go to that barm-froth poet, and to him say, He quite hath lost the title of his play; His calf-skin jests from hence are clean exil'd. Thus once you see, that Wily is beguil'd.

[Exit the JUGGLER.

Now, kind spectators, I dare boldly say, You all are welcome to our author's play: Be still awhile, and, ere we go, We'll make your eyes with laughter flow. Let Momus' mates judge how they list. We fear not what they babble; Nor any paltry poet's pen Amongst that rascal rabble. But time forbids me further speech, My tongue must stop her race; My time is come, I must be dumb, And give the actors place.

[Exit.



DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

GRIPE, an Usurer. PLOD-ALL, a Farmer. SOPHOS, a Scholar. CHURMS, a Lawyer. ROBIN GOODFELLOW. FORTUNATUS, Gripe's son. LELIA, Gripe's daughter. Nurse. PETER PLOD-ALL, Plod-all's son. PEG, Nurse's daughter. WILL CRICKET. MOTHER MIDNIGHT. An Old Man. SYLVANUS. Clerk.



WILY BEGUILED.[140]

Enter GRIPE, solus.

A heavy purse makes a light heart. O, the consideration of this pouch, this pouch! Why, he that has money has heart's ease, and the world in a string. O, this rich chink and silver coin! it is the consolation of the world. I can sit at home quietly in my chair, and send out my angels by sea and by land, and bid—Fly, villains, and fetch in ten in the hundred. Ay, and a better penny too. Let me see: I have but two children in all the world to bestow my goods upon—Fortunatus, my son, and Lelia, my daughter. For my son, he follows the wars, and that which he gets with swaggering he spends in swaggering. But I'll curb him; his allowance, whilst I live, shall be small, and so he shall be sure not to spend much: and if I die, I will leave him a portion that, if he will be a good husband, and follow his father's steps, shall maintain him like a gentleman, and if he will not, let him follow his own humour till he be weary of it, and so let him go. Now for my daughter, she is my only joy, and the staff of my age; and I have bestowed good bringing-up upon her, by'r Lady. Why, she is e'en modesty itself; it does me good to look on her. Now, if I can hearken out some wealthy marriage for her, I have my only desire. Mass, and well-remembered: here's my neighbour Plod-all hard by has but one only son; and let me see—I take it, his lands are better than five thousand pounds. Now, if I can make a match between his son and my daughter, and so join his land and my money together—O, 'twill be a blessed union. Well, I'll in, and get a scrivener: I'll write to him about it presently. But stay, here comes Master Churms the lawyer; I'll desire him to do so much.

Enter CHURMS.

CHURMS. Good morrow, Master Gripe.

GRIPE. O, good morrow, Master Churms. What say my two debtors, that I lent two hundred pound to? Will they not pay use and charges of suit?

CHURMS. Faith, sir, I doubt they are bankrouts: I would you had your principal.

GRIPE. Nay, I'll have all, or I'll imprison their bodies. But, Master Churms, there is a matter I would fain have you do; but you must be very secret.

CHURMS. O sir, fear not that; I'll warrant you.

GRIPE. Why then, this it is: my neighbour Plod-all here by, you know, is a man of very fair land, and he has but one son, upon whom he means to bestow all that he has. Now I would make a match between my daughter Lelia and him. What think you of it?

CHURMS. Marry, I think 'twould be a good match. But the young man has had very simple bringing-up.

GRIPE. Tush! what care I for that? so he have lands and living enough, my daughter has bringing up will serve them both. Now I would have you to write me a letter to goodman Plod-all concerning this matter, and I'll please you for your pains.

CHURMS. I'll warrant you, sir; I'll do it artificially.

GRIPE. Do, good Master Churms; but be very secret. I have some business this morning, and therefore I'll leave you a while; and if you will come to dinner to me anon, you shall be very heartily welcome.

CHURMS. Thanks, good sir; I'll trouble you. [Exit GRIPE.] Now 'twere a good jest, if I could cosen the old churl of his daughter, and get the wench for myself. Zounds, I am as proper a man as Peter Plod-all: and though his father be as good a man as mine, yet far-fetched and dear-bought is good for ladies; and, I am sure, I have been as far as Cales[141] to fetch that I have. I have been at Cambridge, a scholar; at Cales, a soldier; and now in the country a lawyer; and the next degree shall be a coneycatcher: for I'll go near to cosen old father share-penny[142] of his daughter; I'll cast about, I'll warrant him: I'll go dine with him, and write him his letter; and then I'll go seek out my kind companion Robin Goodfellow: and, betwixt us, we'll make her yield to anything. We'll ha' the common law o' the one hand, and the civil law o' the other: we'll toss Lelia like a tennis-ball. [Exit.

Enter old PLOD-ALL and his son PETER, an OLD MAN, Plod-all's tenant, and WILL CRICKET, his son.

PLOD-ALL. Ah, tenant, an ill-husband, by'r Lady: thrice at thy house, and never at home? You know my mind: will you give ten shillings more rent? I must discharge you else.

OLD MAN. Alas! landlord, will you undo me! I sit of a great rent already, and am very poor.

WILL CRICKET. Very poor? you're a very ass. Lord, how my stomach wambles at the same word very poor! Father, if you love your son William, never name that same word, very poor; for, I'll stand to it, that it's petty larceny to name very poor to a man that's o' the top of his marriage.

OLD MAN. Why, son, art o' the top of thy marriage? To whom, I prythee?

WILL CRICKET. Marry, to pretty Peg, Mistress Lelia's nurse's daughter. O, 'tis the dapp'rest wench that ever danced after a tabor and pipe—

For she will so heel it, And toe it, and trip it;— O, her buttocks will quake like a custard.

PETER PLOD-ALL. Why, William, when were you with her?

WILL CRICKET. O Peter, does your mouth water at that? Truly, I was never with her; but I know I shall speed: 'for t'other day she looked on me and laughed, and that's a good sign, ye know. And therefore, old Silver-top, never talk of charging or discharging: for I tell you, I am my father's heir; and if you discharge me, I'll discharge my pestilence at you: for to let my house before my lease be out, is cut-throatery; and to scrape for more rent, is poll-dennery;[143] and so fare you well, good grandsire Usury. Come, father, let's be gone.

[Exeunt WILL and his father.

PLOD-ALL. Well, I'll make the beggarly knaves to pack for this: I'll have it every cross, income and rent too.

Enter CHURMS with a letter.

But stay, here comes one. O, 'tis Master Churms: I hope he brings me some good news. Master Churms, you're well-met; I am e'en almost starved for money: you must take some damnable course with my tenants; they'll not pay.

CHURMS. Faith, sir, they are grown to be captious knaves: but I'll move them with a habeas corpus.

PLOD-ALL. Do, good Master Churms, or use any other villanous course shall please you. But what news abroad?

CHURMS. Faith, little news; but here's a letter which Master Gripe desired me to deliver you: and though it stand not with my reputation to be a carrier of letters, yet, not knowing how much it might concern you, I thought it better something to abase myself, than you should be anyways hindered.

PLOD-ALL. Thanks, good sir; and I'll in and read it.

[Exeunt PLOD-ALL and his son. Manet CHURMS.

CHURMS. Thus men of reach must look to live: I cry content, and murder where I kiss. Gripe takes me for his faithful friend, Imparts to me the secrets of his heart; And Plod-all thinks I am as true a friend To every enterprise he takes in hand, As ever breath'd under the cope of heaven: But damn me if they find it so. All this makes for my [own] avail; I'll ha' the wench myself, or else my wits shall fail.

Enter LELIA and NURSE, gathering of flowers.

LELIA. See how the earth this fragrant spring is clad, And mantled round in sweet nymph Flora's robes: Here grows th'alluring rose, sweet marigolds And the lovely hyacinth. Come, nurse, gather: A crown of roses shall adorn my head, I'll prank myself with flowers of the prime; And thus I'll spend away my primrose-time.

NURSE. Rufty-tufty, are you so frolic? O, that you knew as much as I do; 'twould cool you.

LELIA. Why, what knowest thou, nurse I prythee, tell me.

NURSE. Heavy news, i' faith, mistress: you must be matched, and married to a husband. Ha, ha, ha, ha! a husband, i' faith.

LELIA. A husband, nurse? why, that's good news, if he be a good one.

NURSE. A good one, quotha? ha, ha, ha, ha! why, woman, I heard your father say that he would marry you to Peter Plod-all, that puck-fist, that snudge-snout, that coal-carrierly clown. Lord! 'twould be as good as meat and drink to me to see how the fool would woo you.

LELIA. No, no; my father did but jest: think'st thou, That I can stoop so low to take a brown-bread crust, And wed a clown, that's brought up at the cart?

NURSE. Cart, quotha? Ay, he'll cart you; for he cannot tell how to court you.

LELIA. Ah, nurse! sweet Sophos is the man, Whose love is lock'd in Lelia's tender breast: This heart hath vow'd, if heav'ns do not deny, My love with his entomb'd in earth shall lie.

NURSE. Peace, mistress, stand aside; here comes somebody.

Enter SOPHOS.

SOPHOS. Optatis non est spes ulla potiri. Yet, Phoebus, send down thy tralucent beams, Behold the earth that mourns in sad attire; The flowers at Sophos' presence 'gin to droop, Whose trickling tears for Lelia's loss Do turn the plains into a standing pool. Sweet Cynthia, smile, cheer up the drooping flowers; Let Sophos once more see a sunshine-day: O, let the sacred centre of my heart— I mean fair Lelia, nature's fairest work— Be once again the object to mine eyes. O, but I wish in vain, whilst her I wish to see: Her father he obscures her from my sight, He pleads my want of wealth, And says it is a bar in Venus' court. How hath fond fortune by her fatal doom Predestin'd me to live in hapless hopes, Still turning false her fickle, wavering wheel! And love's fair goddess with her Circian cup Enchanteth so fond Cupid's poison'd darts, That love, the only loadstar of my life, Doth draw my thoughts into a labyrinth. But stay: What do I see? what do mine eyes behold? O happy sight! It is fair Lelia's face! Hail, heav'n's bright nymph, the period of my grief, Sole guidress of my thoughts, and author of my joy.

LELIA. Sweet Sophos, welcome to Lelia; Fair Dido, Carthaginians' beauteous queen, Not half so joyful was, when as the Trojan prince Aeneas landed on the sandy shores Of Carthage' confines, as thy Lelia is To see her Sophos here arriv'd by chance.

SOPHOS. And bless'd be chance, that hath conducted me Unto the place where I might see my dear, As dear to me as is the dearest life.

NURSE. Sir, you may see that fortune is your friend.

SOPHOS. Yet fortune favours fools.

NURSE. By that conclusion you should not be wise. [Aside.

LELIA. Foul fortune sometimes smiles on virtue fair.

SOPHOS. 'Tis then to show her mutability: But since, amidst ten thousand frowning threats Of fickle fortune's thrice-unconstant wheel, She deigns to show one little pleasing smile, Let's do our best false fortune to beguile, And take advantage of her ever-changing moods. See, see, how Tellus' spangled mantle smiles, And birds do chant their rural sugar'd notes, As ravish'd with our meeting's sweet delights: Since then, there fits for love both time and place, Let love and liking hand in hand embrace.

NURSE. Sir, the next way to win her love is to linger her leisure. I measure my mistress by my lovely self: make a promise to a man, and keep it. I have but one fault—I ne'er made promise in my life, but I stick to it tooth and nail. I'll pay it home, i' faith. If I promise my love a kiss, I'll give him two; marry, at first I will make nice, and cry Fie, fie; and that will make him come again and again. I'll make him break his wind with come-agains.

SOPHOS. But what says Lelia to her Sophos' love?

LELIA. Ah, Sophos, that fond blind boy, That wrings these passions from my Sophos' heart, Hath likewise wounded Lelia with his dart; And force perforce, I yield the fortress up: Here, Sophos, take thy Lelia's hand, And with this hand receive a loyal heart. High Jove, that ruleth heaven's bright canopy, Grant to our love a wish'd felicity!

SOPHOS. As joys the weary pilgrim by the way, When Phoebus wanes[144] unto the western deep, To summon him to his desired rest; Or as the poor distressed mariner, Long toss'd by shipwreck on the foaming waves, At length beholds the long-wish'd haven, Although from far his heart doth dance for joy: So love's consent at length my mind hath eas'd; My troubled thoughts by sweet content are pleas'd.

LELIA. My father recks not virtue, But vows to wed me to a man of wealth: And swears his gold shall counterpoise his worth. But Lelia scorns proud Mammon's golden mines, And better likes of learning's sacred lore, Than of fond fortune's glistering mockeries. But, Sophos, try thy wits, and use thy utmost skill To please my father, and compass his goodwill.

SOPHOS. To what fair Lelia wills doth Sophos yield content; Yet that's the troublous gulf my silly ship must pass: But, were that venture harder to atchieve Than that of Jason for the golden fleece, I would effect it for sweet Lelia's sake, Or leave myself as witness of my thoughts.

NURSE. How say you by that, mistress? He'll do anything for your sake.

LELIA. Thanks, gentle love: But, lest my father should suspect— Whose jealous head with more than Argus' eyes Doth measure ev'ry gesture that I use— I'll in, and leave you here alone. Adieu, sweet friend, until we meet again. Come, nurse, follow me.

[Exeunt LELIA and NURSE.

SOPHOS. Farewell, my love, fair fortune be thy guide! Now, Sophos, now bethink thyself, how thou May'st win her father's will to knit this happy knot. Alas! thy state is poor, thy friends are few. And fear forbids to tell my fate to friends:[145] Well, I'll try my fortunes; And find out some convenient time, When as her father's leisure best shall serve To confer with him about fair Lelia's love. [Exit SOPHOS.

Enter GRIPE, old PLOD-ALL, CHURMS, and WILL CRICKET.

GRIPE. Neighbour Plod-all and Master Churms, y'are welcome to my house. What news in the country, neighbour? You are a good husband; you ha' done sowing barley, I am sure?

PLOD-ALL. Yes, sir, an't please you, a fortnight since.

GRIPE. Master Churms, what say my debtors? can you get any money of them yet?

CHURMS. Not yet, sir; I doubt they are scarce able to pay. You must e'en forbear them awhile; they'll exclaim on you else.

GRIPE. Let them exclaim, and hang, and starve, and beg. Let me ha' my money.

PLOD-ALL. Here's this good fellow too, Master Churms, I must e'en put him and his father over into your hands; they'll pay me no rent.

WILL CRICKET. This good fellow, quotha? I scorn that base, broking, brabbling, brawling, bastardly, bottle-nosed, beetle-browed, bean-bellied name. Why, Robin Goodfellow is this same cogging, pettifogging, crackropes, calf-skin companion. Put me and my father over to him? Old Silver-top, and you had not put me before my father, I would ha'—

PLOD-ALL. What wouldst ha' done?

WILL CRICKET. I would have had a snatch at you, that I would.

CHURMS. What, art a dog?

WILL CRICKET. No; if I had been a dog, I would ha' snapped off your nose ere this, and so I should have cosened the devil of a maribone.

GRIPE. Come, come: let me end this controversy. Prythee, go thy ways in, and bid the boy bring in a cup of sack here for my friends.

WILL CRICKET. Would you have a sack, sir?

GRIPE. Away, fool: a cup of sack to drink.

WILL CRICKET. O, I had thought you would have had a sack to have put this law-cracking cogfoist in, instead of a pair of stocks.

GRIPE. Away, fool; get thee in, I say.

WILL CRICKET. Into the buttery, you mean?

GRIPE. I prythee, do.

WILL CRICKET. I'll make your hogshead of sack rue that word. [Aside. Exit.]

GRIPE. Neighbour Plod-all, I sent a letter to you by Master Churms; how like you of the motion?

PLOD-ALL. Marry, I like well of the motion. My son, I tell you, is e'en all the stay I have, and all my care is to have him take one that hath something, for, as the world goes now, if they have nothing, they may beg. But I doubt he's too simple for your daughter; for I have brought him up hardly, with brown bread, fat bacon, puddings, and souse; and, by'r Lady, we think it good fare too.

GRIPE. Tush, man! I care not for that. You ha' no more children; you'll make him your heir, and give him your lands, will you not?

PLOD-ALL. Yes; he's e'en all I have; I have nobody else to bestow it upon.

GRIPE. You say well.

Enter WILL CRICKET and a boy, with wine and a napkin.

WILL CRICKET. Nay, hear you; drink, afore you bargain.

GRIPE. Mass, and 'tis a good motion. Boy, fill some wine, [He fills them wine, and gives them the napkin.] Here, neighbour and Master Churms, I drink to you.

BOTH. We thank you, sir.

WILL CRICKET. Lawyer, wipe clean. Do you remember?

CHURMS. Remember? why?

WILL CRICKET. Why, since you know when.

CHURMS. Since when?

WILL CRICKET. Why, since you were bumbasted, that your lubberly legs would not carry your lobcock body; when you made an infusion of your stinking excrements in your stalking implements. O, you were plaguy frayed, and foully rayed—

GRIPE. Prythee, peace, Will! Neighbour Plod-all, what say you to this match? shall it go forward?

PLOD-ALL. Sir, that must be as our children like. For my son, I think I can rule him; marry, I doubt your daughter will hardly like of him; for, God wot, he's very simple.

GRIPE. My daughter's mine to command; have I not brought her up to this? She shall have him. I'll rule the roost for that. I'll give her pounds and crowns, gold and silver. I'll weigh her down in pure angel gold. Say, man, is't a match?

PLOD-ALL. Faith, I agree.

CHURMS. But, sir, if you give your daughter so large a dowry, you'll have some part of his land conveyed to her by jointure?

GRIPE. Yes, marry, that I will, and we'll desire your help for conveyance.

PLOD-ALL. Ay, good Master Churms, and you shall be very well contented for your pains.

WILL CRICKET. Ay, marry; that's it he looked for all this while. [Aside.

CHURMS. Sir, I will do the best I can.

WILL CRICKET. But, landlord, I can tell you news, i' faith. There is one Sophos, a brave gentleman; he'll wipe your son Peter's nose of Mistress Lelia. I can tell you, he loves her well.

GRIPE. Nay, I trow.

WILL CRICKET. Yes, I know, for I am sure I saw them close together at poop-noddy in her closet.

GRIPE. But I am sure she loves him not.

WILL CRICKET. Nay, I dare take it on my death she loves him, for he's a scholar, and 'ware scholars! they have tricks for love, i' faith; for with a little logic and Pitome colloquium they'll make a wench do anything. Landlord, pray ye, be not angry with me for speaking my conscience. In good faith, your son Peter's a very clown to him. Why, he's as fine a man as a wench can see in a summer's day.

GRIPE. Well, that shall not serve his turn; I'll cross him, I warrant ye. I am glad I know it. I have suspected it a great while. Sophos! Why, what's Sophos? a base fellow. Indeed he has a good wit, and can speak well. He's a scholar, forsooth—one that hath more wit than money—and I like not that; he may beg, for all that. Scholars! why, what are scholars without money?

PLOD-ALL. Faith, e'en like puddings without suet.

GRIPE. Come, neighbour, send your son to my house, for he shall be welcome to me, and my daughter shall entertain him kindly. What? I can and will rule Lelia. Come, let's in; I'll discharge Sophos from my house presently.

[Exit GRIPE, PLOD-ALL, and CHURMS.

WILL CRICKET.

A horn plague of this money, for it causeth many horns to bud; and for money many men are horned; for when maids are forced to love where they like not, it makes them lie where they should not. I'll be hanged, if e'er Mistress Lelia will ha' Peter Plod-all; I swear by this button-cap (do you mark?), and by the round, sound, and profound contents (do you understand?) of this costly codpiece (being a good proper man, as you see), that I could get her as soon as he myself. And if I had not a month's mind in another place, I would have a fling at her, that's flat; but I must set a good holiday-face on't, and go a wooing to pretty Peg: well, I'll to her, i' faith, while 'tis in my mind. But stay; I'll see how I can woo before I go: they say use makes perfectness. Look you now; suppose this were Peg: now I set my cap o' the side on this fashion (do ye see?); then say I, sweet honey, honey, sugar-candy Peg.

Whose face more fair than Brock my father's cow;

Whose eyes do shine, Like bacon-rine; Whose lips are blue, Of azure hue;

Whose crooked nose down to her chin doth bow. For, you know, I must begin to commend her beauty, and then I will tell her plainly that I am in love with her over my high shoes; and then I will tell her that I do nothing of nights but sleep, and think on her, and specially of mornings: and that does make my stomach so rise, that I'll be sworn I can turn me three or four bowls of porridge over in a morning afore breakfast.

Enter ROBIN GOODFELLOW.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. How now, sirrah? what make you here, with all that timber in your neck?

WILL CRICKET. Timber? Zounds, I think he be a witch; how knew he this were timber? Mass, I'll speak him fair, and get out on's company; for I am afraid on him.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Speak, man; what, art afraid? what makest here?

WILL CRICKET. A poor fellow, sir: ha' been drinking two or three pots of ale at an alehouse, and ha' lost my way, sir.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. O! nay, then I see, thou art a good fellow: seest thou not Master Churms the lawyer to-day?

WILL CRICKET. No, sir; would you speak with him?

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Ay, marry, would I.

WILL CRICKET. If I see him, I'll tell him you would speak with him.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Nay, prithee, stay. Who wilt thou tell him would speak with him?

WILL CRICKET. Marry, you, sir.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. I? who am I?

WILL CRICKET. Faith, sir, I know not.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. If thou seest him, tell him Robin Goodfellow would speak with him.

WILL CRICKET. O, I will sir. [Exit WILL CRICKET.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Mass, the fellow was afraid. I play the bugbear wheresoe'er I come, and make them all afraid. But here comes Master Churms.

Enter CHURMS.

CHURMS. Fellow Robin, God save you: I have been seeking for you in every alehouse in the town.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. What, Master Churms? What's the best news abroad? 'tis long since I see you.

CHURMS. Faith, little news: but yet I am glad I have met with you. I have a matter to impart to you wherein you may stand me in some stead, and make a good benefit to yourself: if we can deal cunningly, 'twill be worth a double fee to you, by the Lord.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. A double fee? speak, man; what is't? If it be to betray mine own father, I'll do it for half a fee; and for cunning let me alone.

CHURMS. Why then, this it is: here is Master Gripe hard by, a client of mine, a man of mighty wealth, who has but one daughter; her dowry is her weight in gold. Now, sir, this old pennyfather would marry her to one Peter Plod-all, rich Plod-all's son and heir; whom though his father means to leave very rich, yet he's a very idiot and brownbread clown, and one I know the wench does deadly hate: and though their friends have given their full consent, and both agreed on this unequal match, yet I know that Lelia will never marry him. But there's another rival in her love—one Sophos; and he's a scholar, one whom I think fair Lelia dearly loves, but her father hates him as he hates a toad; for he's in want, and Gripe gapes after gold, and still relies upon the old-said saw, Si nihil attuleris, &c.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. And wherein can I do you any good in this?

CHURMS. Marry, thus, sir: I am of late grown passing familiar with Master Gripe; and for Plod-all, he takes me for his second self. Now, sir, I'll fit myself to the old crummy churls' humours, and make them believe I'll persuade Lelia to marry Peter Plod-all, and so get free access to the wench at my pleasure. Now, o' the other side, I'll fall in with the scholar, and him I'll handle cunningly too; I'll tell him that Lelia has acquainted me with her love to him, and for Because her father much suspects the same, He mews her up as men do mew their hawks; And so restrains her from her Sophos' sight. I'll say, because she doth repose more trust Of secrecy in me than in another man, In courtesy she hath requested me To do her kindest greetings to her love.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. An excellent device, i' faith!

CHURMS. Ay, sir, and by this means I'll make a very gull of my fine Diogenes: I shall know his secrets even from the very bottom of his heart. Nay more, sir; you shall see me deal so cunningly, that he shall make me an instrument to compass his desire; when, God knows, I mean nothing less. Qui dissimulare nescit, nescit vivere.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Why, this will be sport alone; but what would you have me do in this action?

CHURMS. Marry, as I play with th'one hand, play you with t'other. Fall you aboard with Peter Plod-all; make him believe you'll work miracles, and that you have a powder will make Lelia love him. Nay, what will he not believe, and take all that comes? you know my mind: and so we'll make a gull of the one and a goose of the other. And if we can invent any device to bring the scholar in disgrace with her, I do not doubt but with your help to creep between the bark and the tree, and get Lelia myself.

ROBIN GOODFELLOW. Tush! man. I have a device in my head already to do that. But they say her brother Fortunatus loves him dearly.